we Have Such Little Time...

Time, with Its quiet waiting,

Silent wanting, shameful visage 

From within. Standing gately 

All around me, keeping 

Quiet in the din. 

we do not, within it all, accept 

At all Its silence and Its rage. 

As quietly, It gingerly 

Runs lengthened fingers 

'Cross our page.

Sweet Time, 

Old Time, 

Old Father, time

To go

Before the lights within, 

Without blow out

And take us derelicts 

In tow.

(Screaming, fitfully)

Be kind, Old Time! Forget

That claim that on us You

Now hold: 

To keep us silenced and

Forever thus entombed

Within Your fold!

(somber now...)

Sweet Time, 

Quiet Time, We

Have such little time, you know;

To waste a-not

And wanting what we

Should have always known

Would be more fanciful than real, 

More tamed demure intoxication than 

The constructs of our steel and hardy 

Tongue, thus lashing out, foolhardy 

In its rage against Kind Time, 

Sweet Quiet Time, 

Whose fingers turn each page 

From book to boundless energies, 

Thus floating in the squall 

Of aftermaths of aftermaths, 

Alive, despite it all. 

As Time, 

Sweet Time, 

Sweet Eager Time and I, 

Most effortlessly, hand-in-hand 

Above it all shall fly 

To distances most distant and 

Most definitively new; 

Where all that's left is what We've done, 

Not what We've meant to do; and 

Quiet Time, 

Sweet Silent Time, 

Sweet Loving Friend and I

Shall, innocence now lost and gone, 

Be Heirs to every cry 

That once had kept Us

Silenced gately, thus 

Looking on, demure;from where We'd

Sought and even fraught 

Without comfort or a cure that

Seemed a-right and rightly so, for

Time, thus ticking on had

One desire: to feed Its fire and

Keep Us through till dawn.

(pause, reflect, begin anew)

Sweet Time, 

Quiet Time, 

Quiet Time, whose voice I share, 

Lead me not down leaden paths 

That end in deep despair;

But if, Sweet Time, 

My Quiet Time, my 

Final time is nigh, 

Then grant me this, my 

Final wish, and let 

The We be I.

The Man That I had Dreamed

I felt a saddening love song within me grow
As the space between my soul and her eyes grew dim
I felt
Somehow departed from the man she'd made for me
Or more precisely put,
The man she'd made me think she wanted
I guess I never was that man
I guess
I never was that nothing
That I ever wanted to be
And so
Deep within myself
From somewhere deep without as well,
I closed that chapter of my life
And closed my eyes
And sighed
And became the man that I had dreamed

Opinions are Like Assholes

I guess the reason that I said before
For laughing at your kitchen floor
Is not the best or most polite;
And even though I'm mostly right,
I'm mostly sorry too for that
'Cause I don't want you to react
In such a way as you just did
With yelling words and getting rid
Of things that, true, are rather dumb
To me that is, to you, they're "fun"
I guess the thing for you to note
Is that old adage that I wrote
In amber paint across your lawn
That you won't see until the dawn
That opinions and all assholes, hun
Are found in almost everyone.

The Carnival of Dance Outside of Nazi France

I hand me things like naked
In a time of Nazi-France
When no one said I'd make it
To the Carnival of Dance

But there I was, regardless
In lust or luster or
The once and always clothes-less
And the ever-wanting-more

"More this! More that!
"More everything for me!"
The never skinny, ever-fat
Fool's errantry of greed

Is something more than lacking
Friend, I tell you this because
I've heard you back there snacking
On a thing called powdered love

And though you may believe it
Will outside of Nazi-France
Bring you luck and fancy shit
You'll never learn to dance

So shed your thoughts of Nazi-rich
Enticements and your pants
And walk the leading road which
Finds the Carnival of Dance

My Immaculate Love

In honey-lemon skin
and the efforts of an angel,
she approaches me
and loves me
and causes me to burn inside
and melt
I feel her in my skin when I smile
and dream her in my mind when I sleep
she is my effortlessly beautiful
my angel sin un acabo
she is my love.

All of My Kittens

All of my kittens
With all of their mittens
Have come out for tea and iced cream.

They’ve all brought their pails
And filed their nails
And taken the path by the stream.

They begin to arrive
At a quarter to five
As the kettle’s beginning to steam.

They all take their chairs
Right next to the bears...
And that was the end of my dream!

The Wind and the Whole World

He wanders the room in search of her, not knowing who she is, not knowing her name or even what she looks like; but just the way she makes the air around him feel when she is near: trembling in stillness as though it was the wind and the whole world now holding its breath, and not him, gripped by the optimistic anticipation of the possibility of her. The wind and whole world sigh as he approaches her, and gasp, as he walks on by, unknowingly. But he, in touch, in search of Love himself, takes pause at the wind and the whole world’s breath and wonders… and turns… and sees... her, surprised to know that he had heard her prayer. While he, surprised to see that she had answered his, surprised that here before him, in her silent radiance, beaming like a thousand suns: staring him down as he watches her, walks toward her, takes her hand and whispers, "My God... my love... you've heard me!" as she crumbles into a thousand pieces in his arms, tripping over her words, expecting everything to be perfect, finding nothing is the same when he is near, but better, she trembles… unable to speak, able only to Love, to Dream, to fall into his arms and live a thousand lives of Hope and Love and all the things between;